Snowed Up, Heads In
by Ardelier
Summary: Secret Santa gift for Yayfornonsense. Cal/Gill, mild angst and abundant absurdity. "This is a really dumb plan."


**A/N:** This is my Secret Santa gift to **Yayfornonsense**! The prompt was Lightman et al. snowed in at The Lightman Group.

It might be obvious that I have no recollection of the actual layout of the building. For the purposes of this story, Cal and Gillian have offices in close proximity, and the break room is also nearby. Doubtless there are other inconsistencies I remain unaware of. :D Enjoy!

**This is a Really Dumb Plan**

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The mood between them was dark by mid-afternoon. Striding back into the Lightman Group building, Gillian's posture was arched to her fullest height, and her heels snapped against the floor with each step. Next to her Cal looked languid, but his shoulders and legs rolled like that of a dog angling to fight, and he loomed both beside and behind her, making his very gait an irritant. She favoured him briefly with a glance, and he nearly slipped on the ice in it. _What this time? _His jumping brow and flash of a smirk inquired. _The same as every time _– the narrowing of her eyes answered. They parted ways.

Eli sidled up to Ria as Cal clipped past them and slammed the door shut to his office.

"Some kind of trouble," he murmured, intending a bored drawl and missing it with a lilt that betrayed annoyance.

Ria smirked and shrugged, all too familiar with the scene. "Isn't it always?" she said, nudging Eli into the break room and away from the open door. "It's a heads-down kind of night, huh?"

Eli slumped into the nearest chair and let his legs sprawl, rolling his head into his hands. "How long do we need to be here, again? Have you seen the weather forecast? Snow and more snow."

Ria grimaced. "We still need to go over the videos from the Staltham case, and finish the interview reports from yesterday. And – and," her voice was hurried, thinned by a shade of acerbic amusement, "_and _you and I are a week overdue for appraisals, which Foster promised to have done by tonight."

Eli blinked up at Ria and sighed. "Sooo…hours, then? It's five o'clock already. Fuck!" He ran a hand over his face and down the slope of his neck; Ria tracked the movement without a word. "Well, what do you want to do for dinner? Looks like it's takeout for two again."

In her office Gillian opened and slammed all of the drawers in her desk, enjoying a fleeting pleasure at the reverberations that went up her arm. Again, _again_ Cal had to play a game of his own devising, setting her up like a fool with the rest of them; his own, unknowing rook. Gillian felt a coil of hot rage fill her stomach and surge up into the space behind her eyes – but it was only there for the span of a breath and then she swallowed it. Cal was being Cal, predictable in his own way, and she was no longer surprised. Pissed, yes, but not surprised.

She bent her focus to the mundane administrative tasks her partner avoided, taking the next hour to finish the employee appraisals for Loker and Torres. Gillian called them into her office – Torres first and then Loker – to take on the checked-off boxes and met goals of the past year. Gillian was generous; she had no reason not to be.

"Out with it. Now," she said finally, after most of Loker's appraisal had consisted of him blithely agreeing with each sentence of assessment.

Eli squinted at Gillian and started to bounce his knee. "Ria and I have been staring at footage for the last hour and a half, and your blinds are drawn. What's the weather like?"

Gillian considered him for a moment, trying to determine if Loker was deflecting – was he _honestly _concerned about the _weather_? She stood and went to the window, nudging aside one of the blinds…

"Fuck." Behind Gillian, Loker snorted. She spun around and faced him. "It's a complete whiteout – our cars, I can't even _see _our cars. The whole street is covered."

Eli scowled and pressed his palms against his eyes, then he crossed his arms and offered Foster a twitching smile.

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before," he murmured, catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

She gave him a flat look. "I've never been snowed in before, a curse or two is forgivable." Gillian let out a sigh. "Does Cal know? We're going to be stuck here for who _knows _how long. I didn't bring any dinner." Her voice was rueful.

Loker shrugged, "Ria and I ordered pizza before it got too bad out there. There should be leftovers."

Gillian paused just outside of her office and waved Loker on. "You go ahead, I'll go tell Cal about the snow."

A moment later she stood outside of Cal's office struggling to keep her face blank. Gillian knocked and waited, and waited. And knocked once more, still receiving no answer. The rage from earlier returned and Gillian welcomed it. It was _his _fault they were back so late, _his _lack of interest that made it her job to complete the employee appraisals, and now _his _goddamn mind games that made her want to throttle him.

_Well, it's his company – he's made __**that **__perfectly clear,_she thought, resting her hand on the doorknob. _I hope he left one of his fucking windows open_.

_That _startled a laugh out of her, the rather pathetic image of spite Gillian had wished on Cal: open windows in a snowstorm. She dropped her head as the laughter went through her, nearly falling back as the doorknob was wrenched backward out of her hand. In the dark mouth of the doorway stood Cal, eyes glazed, hair mussed like he'd just been dragged away from sex or sleep.

"Foster." His mouth opened and closed and Gillian watched the movement of his stubbled jaw. "Foster, why the _hell _are you standing outside my office laughing?"

"I've come to kill you. Finally," she deadpanned, chewing on a grin as his head snapped back, eyes zipping up and down her face. "But you ruined the surprise."

He smirked. "Yeah? Well, you are a terrible assassin, love. Having a mad cackle while trying to be sneaky… I think you'd better stick to your day job, eh?"

They stared at each other. Gillian read that Cal was struggling with confusion – she didn't blame him, her answer _was_ completely absurd, but she didn't help him either, enjoying the brief moment of victory over him. He was looking for the anger that had been there earlier, so obvious that it bled out of her and into the space between them. What he found was the pleasure of withholding a secret just begging to be told, written over her crinkled eyes and smirking mouth.

"Alright, what do you know that I don't?"

Her smirk widened. "In general, or at this particular instance?" It felt really, _really _good to see him scowl and say nothing. As the silence spanned, Gillian turned on her heel and started walking away.

"Oi oi, easy now," Cal blurted, reaching out a hand to grasp her arm. She stilled. "I was just napping – bit of a rough day, yeah? Tell me what's going on."

"Wait, you were _napping_?" she started, incredulous until the flex of his hand on her arm sobered her. She stared at him. "It's snowing. A lot. So we're stuck."

Cal's brow furrowed, and he blinked twice. His hand was still on her arm, but the grip had gone gentle. Gillian felt the warmth from his palm seep into her skin.

"Wait, are you saying we're _snowed in_?" His lip curled around the _in_, twisting his mouth into a grimace. "I mean, for how long then?"

Gillian shrugged and Cal finally removed his hand from her arm and crammed both hands into his jean pockets, shuffling out into the hall with her.

"Haven't had a chance to check the forecast or the news, but I think Loker's been watching the reports. He's in the break room – they got pizza," she said, smirking at his pouting face.

"Probably ordered it from some mucky little joint where no one washes their hands ever," Cal muttered. "And no one's going to bloody deliver now, are they?"

"You'll probably starve to death," Gillian said, smiling brightly. She led them down the hall, trying not to focus on the dishevelled tufts of hair on Cal's head or the way he kept yawning and bumping into her.

"Long night?"

He blinked and nodded, "Finishing that damn book, love. All's done but the last few pages – should be off to the publishers by the end of the week." He winked at her. "Try not to faint from shock, yeah?"

Gillian composed her expression and flashed him a small smile. "I'm glad that you –" she faltered as Cal twisted and stepped in front of her, and wrapping his hands around her arms to halt them both. Gillian fumbled her steps and kept walking forward for a moment, colliding with Cal. She started to speak but he had taken advantage of her nearness to snake his arms around her and suddenly Gillian was overwhelmed by his proximity, near enough to catch the faint soapy clean scent in the crux of his neck and shoulder. He was saying something and she only half-heard what it was.

"…rough go of it, and I'm sorry about earlier. Acted like a ponce, yeah? Should've let you in on the whole bit..."

Cal's mouth was near her ear, murmuring. Gillian fought the urge to press _away _fromhim, to shut up his garbled apology and delicate attempts to make amends. Yet he was damn near _clutching _her, and she could feel the tension in his arms and back.

"Do you mean it this time?" she said, pulling back enough to meet Cal's gaze. He flinched and she carried on undisturbed. "I've heard this before, Cal."

What _he _heard as Gillian pulled away was an iron weariness in her voice, a numb resignation to his act. Gillian looked silently over her shoulder at him as she walked into the break room, and the sadness on her face nearly cut him in half. Cal did not follow.

"Find Lightman?" Eli asked, raising his eyebrows as Gillian entered the room decidedly _alone _and decidedly _rumpled_. She bee-lined for the nearest chair and fell into it.

"He's…napping," she muttered, shrugging. "Long day."

"I could use a nap," Ria said. A deck of cards flashed in her hands. Eli grinned.

"After I kick your ass at this next hand, maybe."

Ria snorted. "You are on a three game losing streak. You already owe me twenty bucks and a case of beer." The cards flicked out over the table.

Gillian raised her head. "What are you playing? Poker?"

Ria nodded, flipping three cards face-up in the centre of the table. "Heads-up." She shuffled her two cards in her hands; Gillian could see Eli watching the movement with ravenous attention. His own two cards remained perfectly still, face-down on the table.

Outside was a blizzard and up the hall was Cal, likely sulking and skulking, waiting for her to come find him. In here was a game, a distraction. Gillian dragged her chair over to the table and sat down again.

"How do you play…?"

Cal waited outside the break room door, listening as Torres and Loker taught Foster to play poker. He bit his lip as she asked them to tell her if a Royal Flush beat Three of a Kind, and choked back a bark of laughter at Loker's subsequent wail. He wanted to play – _God_, yes, he wanted to play too, but he knew they would all stiffen up around him, that the card game would become just another battlefield. And Foster – _Gillian – _was still pissed; worse, she was hurt, and these days it was his presence bruising her. Cal turned and went back to his office.

In the dim glow of the streetlights outside, he watched the snow continue to fall. It had covered _everything_, and he couldn't see a car for blocks. Somewhere the streets were being cleared but he had no idea when the plows would make it by the office, or by his home. Thank _god _Emily was at Zoe's for the evening – the last thing he needed was having to come up with a sort of rendezvous plan, or her spending the night at the office learning to read tells from _Loker_. Cal shuddered and went to go fix himself a drink.

Later he heard the unmistakeable clip of Gillian's heels as she walked up the hall to her office. Cal set his drink down and wandered out into the hall, following her as Gillian disappeared into the darkened room. From the doorway he watched her rummage through her purse.

"What's going on then?" A grin flashed over his mouth as Gillian jumped and spun around, clutching keys in her left hand. "You lose your car to Torres on a bad hand?"

Gillian squinted at him. "Actually I need to get something from my car." She went to brush past him and added, "And if it matters, both of them owe _me _a substantial portion of their next paycheques."

He followed after her, scoffing. "First, are you really going to go traipsing outside in your _heels_? And second, I reckon it's bloody shameful you taking two human lie detectors for all they've got." At Gillian's raised eyebrow, Cal added, "Shame on _them_, I mean. You, you should come with me to my next card game – we'll set up a system, yeah?"

Gillian responded with an arch look. "You have a point about the heels," she said finally, then shrugged. "But I don't have other shoes and my car's just out in front."

"I'll come with you," he said quickly. The front doors loomed before them and the accumulated snow was enough to make Gillian hesitate. "I could carry you," Cal offered.

Gillian laughed at him, but he could see her considering the height of the snow and the height of her heels.

"How's this," Cal said, "I'll go on ahead to your car and you follow behind me, walking in my footsteps, eh?"

"Will you walk in a straight line?" Gillian asked, thinking of Cal's staggered, lunging gait and her hopping behind him as they zigzagged up the parking lot.

Cal looked offended. He grabbed Gillian's hand and dragged her out of the building, into the bright orange swirl of snow beneath the lights.

"Feel free to grab on if you need to keep your balance," Cal said, wagging his hips at Gillian. He winched as she swatted at his shoulder. "Oi oi, remember who is doing who a favour here." He started forward through the snow, leaving twin trenches behind him.

"This is a really dumb plan," Gillian deadpanned, but he could tell that she was close behind him. "My feet are already _freezing_."

"I'll warm them up when we get back inside," he said. Gillian's car was only twenty feet from the door and they were nearly beside it. "Whiskey should do, if I remem—"

Behind him Gillian let out a strangled yell, and Cal half-turned to see what was the matter. She had reached forward to grab him and retain some semblance of balance, but Cal's torso suddenly twisted out of reach and Gillian found herself falling forwards and sideways, arms winding around in short circles. Cal went to catch her and his leg suddenly caught around one of Gillian's. They both staggered out of the path they had made, clasping each other, Cal finally losing his fight with gravity and dragging Gillian down with him, into the soft cold bed of snow.

It had taken five seconds for them to fall, Cal first and then Gillian. Cal made to sit up when Gillian started shaking, her forehead pressed against his collarbone. Alarm flashed through him, dragging with it thoughts of a broken ankle or wrist. He put his hand against her temple and pushed the hair back.

"Gill? Gill? Are you alright, love?" The shaking increased and with it Cal felt Gillian's breath on his neck as she moved, hot air coming in short bursts. Realization flooded him. "Are you bloody _laughing?"_

She was. Great wracking sobs of laughter. Cal watched with incredulity as Gillian tried to right herself and failed, collapsing again against his chest.

"Told – you – this – was – a stupid –plan," she wheezed. Her legs were tangled with his; one of her heels was missing. Both of them were soaked. Cal's hand left her hair and dropped to her neck. Gillian looked down to see his mouth was slack with wonder and his eyes had the hazy look from before – the one that could be from sex or sleep. The pad of his thumb ghosted her jaw. She tensed, aware now that she was pressed against him, her hips and legs meshed against his. They were breathing into one another and Cal was staring at her still.

They had fallen off the line, him first and her following.

Gillian's head dropped, her mouth brushing his and _lingering_, but only for a second. It didn't have to be a kiss, but it _was,_ was an invitation to possibility. She felt the tension in Cal's body tighten; his hand on her neck flexed and the other hand went up and pressed against her back. He met her eyes once, briefly, and she saw something snap in his gaze. There was no time to identify it, because he was skating his fingers up into her hair and his mouth was on hers.

Gillian remembered, fleetingly, how angry she had been with Cal, but she couldn't hold on to the memory, her thoughts distorted by his teeth nipping her bottom lip. This was not the kiss they had shared pretending to be husband and wife – there was too much _finally _in it, too much joy as Cal flicked his tongue into her mouth and Gillian made a humming, pleased sound. They broke apart and scrabbled up and back into sitting positions, his hands on her thighs, hers on his neck and in the hair at his nape. Gillian sighed and to Cal it was a lovely, lovely sound.

"…wanted for _so long_, Gill, you don't," Cal mumbled, leaving half the words on her tongue. "And I am _sorry_, god, so sorry. I –"

"Later," she said, trying to think straight as his hands tightened on her thighs and his teeth grazed the skin on her neck. "Much, _much _later."

Gillian stood up first and Cal handed her the missing heel. They brushed the snow off of each other just to keep touching. He kissed her again, pressed her right up against her car.

"What did you need again, darling?" Cal asked. The rasp in his voice sent a shiver up her spine.

Gillian looked at him, blank-faced. "What are you – ? Oh from the _car_! Right." It was hard to recall much of anything with his hands on her hips, his mouth so close to hers. "I, uh, I was getting a spare blanket. From my car."

His brow furrowed and Gillian watched a number of dark and delicious thoughts dart across Cal's face.

"Good plan," he said, nodding slowly. "Think I might be coming down with hypothermia. For that matter, so are you."

"We'll have to keep each other warm," Gillian murmured.

Cal grinned, the first _real _grin she had seen in months.

"You read my mind, darling," he said. He kissed her twice more because he could. "Let's go inside, yeah?"

The snow continued to fall around them, covering all the contours of the world. In the perfect blankness of it, it was hard not to be romanced by the idea of a fresh start.

Gillian and Cal went inside.


End file.
